


You Don't Have to Call Me Darlin'

by kurokali



Category: Original Work
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-23
Updated: 2015-12-23
Packaged: 2018-05-08 16:31:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,647
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5504804
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kurokali/pseuds/kurokali
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just a drabble I couldn't get out of my head.  All original characters.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Don't Have to Call Me Darlin'

            Étienne took a deep breath and looked at his reflection in the mirror once more.  The well-dressed, well-groomed, red-haired giant who looked back at him hardly seemed familiar.  He’d not been so gussied up since his first Communion, over a decade earlier.  But he’d wanted everything to be perfect for today, and that included letting his future brother-in-law help him dress for today.  The suit had had to be custom tailored to fit his frame, large of bone and heavy from years of hard work.  Even so, the fine fabric seemed rather flimsy to Étienne, used as he was to denim and wool and sturdy cotton.

            “It’ll do,” drawled the city-bred voice of Louis Fontainebleau.  Étienne could tell that the young lawyer was stone sober, for once, no doubt a condition placed upon him by the bride-to-be.  “I can only do so much with the material I’m given.”

            Étienne rolled his eyes.  Though Louis had always been much more reasonable about the matter than his father, Robert Fontainebleau, Étienne had no misconceptions about the fact that he was not the match anyone would have chosen for Adèle.  The fact that this wedding was happening at all was a small-scale miracle, and he would feel nervous until he had the ring on Adèle’s hand and the priest said the final blessing. 

            Louis offered him a sip from the flask in his jacket pocket.  He seemed to consider the majority of his role as best man to come down to feeding Étienne drinks.  It was all he’d done this past weekend.  “You’ll be fine.  Adèle’s crazy about you, and I know you love her, too.  Papa will come around,” he said reassuringly.  “Just give it some time.”  A smile came across Louis’ lips.  “Just wait ‘til that baby gets here.  You’ll see.”

            The mention of the baby caused Étienne to flush.  He suspected that Louis knew of his and Adèle’s scheme to make Robert allow them to wed, but neither man had said anything about it since the rather hasty announcement of Étienne and Adèle’s engagement last month.  While being a father at 19 was not necessarily Étienne’s dream come true, he loved Adèle with all his heart and if this was the only way to marry her, he’d gladly start their family early.

            “I guess we’ll see…” Étienne responded noncommittally.  He’d grown up poor, and for him, a family like the Fontainebleaus was something wholly unattainable.  The fact that he’d fallen in love with the only daughter of the family should have been a source of tragedy for him, but by the mysterious grace of God, Adèle had fallen in love with the hired hand from the Gulf who came to the bayou plantation every spring and summer for work in the indigo fields.

            There was a quick knock before the door swung open, revealing Louis and Adèle’s uncle, Thomas.  “Y’all ready?” he asked.  Étienne nodded, and Louis grinned and slapped his back.

            “ _Certainment_ ,” Louis replied.  “Come on, brother.  Let’s get you married.”

***  
            “…Since it is your intention to enter into marriage, join your right hands, and declare your consent before God and his Church,” the priest said solemnly.  Étienne took Adèle’s hand in his and turned to face her.  She looked radiantly beautiful, her long red hair loose under the gauzy veil and her blue eyes bright with tears of happiness.

            He was so lucky, he reflected.  This young woman before him was beautiful, brilliant, and well-to-do…and she wanted him.  He’d thank God on bended knee every morning for giving him such a perfect wife.  He realized that it was up to him to speak first and cleared his throat nervously.  “I, um, Étienne…”  What were the words?  He’d rehearsed them over and over again for the last week, and he’d repeated them so often in the dressing room as he’d waited with Louis that his future brother-in-law had threatened to gag him until the ceremony started if he didn’t knock it off. 

            Adèle noticed his discomfort and mouthed the next few words to him.  He decided to start from the beginning.  “I, Étienne, take you…”  Horrified, he stared blankly at the delicate features of his fiancée’s face.  “Take you…ah…um…”

            “Adèle!” Louis hissed from behind him.

            Flustered and red-faced, Étienne ran through the whole phrase at once.  “I, Étienne, take you, Adèle, to be my wife. I promise to be true to you in good times and in bad, in sickness and in health. I will love you and honor you all the days of my life.”  Relieved, he was able to take another breath at last.

            Adèle sighed in relief as well, and responded, “I, Adèle, take you, Étienne, to be my husband. I promise to be true to you in good times and in bad, in sickness and in health. I will love, honor, and obey you all the days of my life.”  Étienne was slightly surprised to hear that she’d kept the word “obey” in her vows, as they’d discussed the wording when they first got engaged.  He’d assured her then that he didn’t expect her to make any such promise, and he’d assumed that she would omit the word, as their priest didn’t insist on the old-fashioned phrasing.

            The priest smiled and placed his hand upon theirs.  “You have declared your consent before the Church. May the Lord in his goodness strengthen your consent and fill you both with his blessings.  What God has joined, men must not divide.”  He gestured to Adèle’s young cousin, Philip, who held the rings.

***  
            Safely married, Étienne felt that he could finally relax.  Adèle’s hand was firmly grasped in his as they sat at the head of the table.  Around them, friends and family chattered amiably, but the dull roar of the crowd barely affected the newlyweds.  Étienne had opted for iced tea along with Adèle, in deference to her condition, but most of the guests were sipping champagne, if not something stronger.  Louis, apparently now freed from any constraints Adèle had placed upon him, had already downed several Sazeracs and juleps, making him as red-cheeked and loud as Étienne had ever seen him.  As the couple watched, the lawyer grabbed his glass and stood.

            “All right, y’all, quiet down.  I gotta make a speech here…” Louis bellowed, his voice cutting through the din of the happy crowd.  “When Adèle here told me she was marrying the help, I didn’t quite know what to say.  All I knew about Étienne at that point was that he was a good worker who was polite enough and could hold his liquor.”  A burst of laughter arose from the assembled guests. 

            “But as I’ve gotten to know him over the last few months, I realize that he’s just what this family needs…and more important than that, he’s just what my little sister needs.  He’s a good man and he loves that girl more than I thought anyone could.”

            The guests applauded.  Louis gave them a moment to settle down before he began speaking again, switching over to what Étienne knew Adèle called his “courtroom voice,” with which he seemed to almost over-emphasize each syllable to give his pronouncements added importance.  “And in light of his…interesting…performance during the ceremony, I thought it only appropriate to start off the party with a song that will forever remind me of this happy day…”  He pointed to the band, who had up ‘til now only played instrumentals.  “Hit it!”

            A guitar began twanging plaintively as the singer stepped up to his microphone.  He began to sing, and Étienne felt his face begin to turn beet red.  He recognized the song instantly, and while the majority of the folks gathered didn’t seem to know it yet, he knew they would soon enough.  “Well, it was all that I could do to keep from crying / Sometimes it seems so useless to remain…/…You don’t have to call me darlin’, darlin’/ You never even called me by my name…”

            A roar came from the crowd as they began to laugh and whoop.  Étienne would have gladly strangled Louis, had the lawyer come close enough to reach.  As it was, he settled for glowering at his brother-in-law and promising himself revenge later.  By the second chorus, most of the guests were singing along with the band.

            “Don’t worry, sweetheart,” Adèle murmured close to his ear.  “It’s just one of Louis’s jokes.  He doesn’t mean a thing by it.”

            Étienne frowned.  “Dammit, I feel bad enough about freezing like that.  Your brother would be just hateful enough to make fun.”

            Adèle kissed his cheek.  “We’re married now, and that’s all that matters.  I’d smile at the devil himself right now.  And you wait and see if we don’t laugh about this years from now.”

            He couldn’t force himself to stay too angry, not when Adèle was so sweet and joyful next to him.  “Oh, all right…” he grumbled.

***

            Twenty-five years later, at their silver wedding anniversary party, Étienne and Adèle de la Croix found themselves grinning when Louis flicked on his iPod and they heard David Allen Coe’s voice come over the speakers.  Half the family began belting out the song immediately.  Across the room, Étienne saw his daughter’s boyfriend, a huge Scotsman named Charles, look down at her in confusion.  She raised up on tiptoe and whispered something in his ear.  At the explanation, Chaz gave a bark of laughter that boomed over the sounds of the guests singing.  Étienne was still unsure of how he felt about the young man who’d originally come into their home as Jamison’s football buddy, but at least he knew how to make himself at home, even here in the mansion.  That was a lesson that had taken quite a while for Étienne to master himself.  Perhaps there was a place here for Chaz, after all.


End file.
